Chapter Text
“Marry me.”
“What?” Joan was stunned by his sudden outburst, “Morse, what are you talking about? You don’t want to marry me. Most importantly, you don’t have to.”
“I want to, Ms Thursday.”
“You can’t even call me by my name, Morse. I don’t even know your first name. And I don’t want your pity.”
That was the moment Morse understood. He knew this was a life-defining moment, the moment that would decide whether his personal opera would consolidate into the tragedy he had long accepted destiny had picked for him.
For not the first time in his existence, but probably the most important, he was overcome by an unshakeable push to action.
He squared his shoulders, his gaze fixed into hers – beautiful and broken, a shadow of the young woman he had come to know and, yes, love, over the years.
He was not a man of faith but at that moment he silently prayed every divinity there was and had ever been to strike Ray with their vengeful force.
“I…the last thing I’m feeling right now is pity. I’m furious,” she gasped and he could see the fear in her eyes, “Not at you. Never at you.”
He slowly approached her, raising his arms towards her and waiting for her imperceptible nod before he put his hands on her cheeks.
“I’m furious at Ray. I’m furious at myself. I am furious at anyone who would ever dare hurt you,” he quickly said, “I do not pity you, Joan Thursday. I could never pity you.”
She looked into his eyes, a glimmer of hope still overshadowed by fear and concern about letting everyone down. Joan had wanted to find herself, to show her father she was capable of being in the world but crumbled, betrayed by her own guilt and self-doubt.
“I don’t want you ruining your life just to save me. I’m not a damsel in need of rescuing. I…” she struggled through her words, “I don’t want you sacrificing yourself out of some misplaced sense of duty towards my father. You don’t deserve that.”
“It’s not duty. It’s not pity…Miss…Joan,” he could not help but smile slightly at her gasp. Seems like today was the day he could not stop surprising her. He was surprising himself as well.
“I don’t have the best record, not just with women but with people generally. Your father can certainly attest to that.”
She let out a wet snort. Good, he couldn't bear to see her in tears – could never stand seeing women crying.
“The truth is that I’ve loved you since the first moment you opened that door. You were so beautiful and happy and you saw me. You truly saw me, without even trying. And the more time passed, the more I had to hold back from letting you in. And when you left, I thought I was too late. You…mean the world to me, and I should have told you that morning. I should have told you because you deserve to know.”
Joan could not take his eyes off him, too stunned to speak after hearing him confess his love. In all the years that Morse had been somewhat a daily citation in her father’s scarce tales of work life, Joan had heard of his tendency to throw all of himself into his pursuits but she could never have imagined she would someday become one of the feats Morse took on.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak this much. You’re starting to sound like one of your opera heroes.”
He continued to hold her close, the fear of her running away still too alive for him to let go: “ Ho tante cose che ti voglio dire, o una sola, ma grande come il mare, come il mare profonda ed infinita. Sei il mio amore e tutta la mia vita.”
“Is this the showing off my father constantly complains about?” she tried to joke as he refused to let his gaze drop. She felt vulnerable, her fragility laid bare in front of him as he searched through her as a thirst-driven adventurer seeking an oasis.
“I have many things to tell your, or maybe one alone, but as big as the sea, as deep and infinite as the sea. You, Joan Thursday, are my love and all my life.”
She gasped, overcome by the whole situation. Joan snapped like a cut chord, and she was suddenly grateful he had refused to let her go as her knees buckled under her. In a cat-like sweep, he grabbed her by the waist, his features turning to concern as he held her up.
“Are you ok? Joan, are you ok?”
“I’m fine. I’m…you can’t just say stuff like that to girls, Morse. You lull us into this sense of security with you being all shy and taciturn and then turn into a romantic hero from them fairytales.”
He pulled the only chair in the room closer, helping her sit and disappearing into the kitchenette to grab her a glass of water.
“It’s the second time you call me a hero this evening,” he told her as he passed her the drink.
Had he had any doubt about the family connection, Morse would have had it dismantled when Joan hit him with a withering look he had seen one too many times on her father's face as she sipped her drink.
“I show up to your door with a black eye, tell you I’m pregnant and the first thing that jumps to your mind is marriage. Excuse me if that sounds like something out of a tale. Or one of your operettas.”
“To be honest, not the first thing that came to my mind.”
She was surprised by his statement. Surely, there was too much going on at that specific moment for him to be thinking of anything else.
He looked conflicted but another poignant look from her pushed him into speaking once again: “The first thing I thought was where I could hide Ray’s body.”
“You would never. You could never, Morse,” she automatically grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers, “One thing I know for sure about you is, no matter what others say, you are a good man. And that makes you a brave man because there are not many people in this world who would give up everything to do the right thing, no matter the cost.”
“You have too high an opinion of me, Miss Thursday,” Morse said, his hand automatically going to pull his left ear as he normally did whenever he felt uncomfortable or overcome with emotion.
She rolled her eyes: “You’re not going to go back to that Miss Thursday thing. Not if we’re going to get married.”
His head snapped up. For the first time since arriving at his basement flat what seemed hours ago, she saw how pivotal her answer would be. Her decision wasn’t about her, and her baby alone.
She had his destiny in her hands too and she felt an overwhelming sense of inadequacy taking over. How could she be trusted with such a momentous task? How could anyone?
She took a deep breath. She squared her shoulders as he had only just done minutes before. And then, with a resoluteness she had only ever witnessed in her mother, Joan Thursday took a decision that would change her life forever.